Choices
by Ivy Gort
Summary: Completed! Set the night of Grad-Day. Spike comes back to Sunnydale to kill Buffy. Things don't go the way he plans. This story is finished.
1. Default Chapter

Timeline: Night after Graduation Day. B/S maybe.   
  
Part One  
  
There she is walking her friends home from just blowing up her sodden High School. I watched as Peaches left her just standing there, looking so lost and yet so beautiful. I guess Dru had it right; I won't be able to go back to her until I end the Slayer's life. I hate doing it like this-I can see the physical and emotion exhaustion etched on her face as she stumbles along. Her friends seem energized and completely oblivious to her plight.  
  
Bloody easy pickings, the lot of them. Still, I don't want to fight the lot of them so I'll wait until she's alone. It won't be long now because the Wolf and Red leave in the van and the Queen and the boy drive away in her car. Why are they all leaving her on a night like this? Don't they know she had just killed a human, well okay not technically, her other slayer's in a coma.... Some friends those are leaving her after the love of her life just walked out on her!  
  
I can't think about all that-I'm an evil stalking killer and my prey is about to enter and alley that's a short cut to her house. This is too good to be true! I know the alley's a short cut to her home, but even she has to realize that she's in no shape to fight off even a human attacker much less a rogue vampire or two left over from the Mayor's army. We all know that Vamp's love dark alleys.  
  
Sure enough, I can hear the sounds of a fight before I round the corner. The slayer's doing better than I thought because I see two of my brethren turn to dust-but a third is winding up to swing a board like a baseball bat at the back of the slayers head. It all seems like it's in slow motion, either she didn't know the third vamp was there or she was too exhausted to care, she doesn't turn and try to block the blow so he nails her fully in the side of the head.  
  
Poor girl drops like a sack of potatoes. She's out. I can smell the blood from the wound and that make my fangs come out. The fledgling is just standing there ready for her to get up, either he's too frightened to believe he got so lucky as to knock out the slayer or too new at the whole killing thing to realize just how far gone she actually is. I can tell by the way she fell that she won't be coming around for hours, maybe even days-the fact that she will live from the blow is a given-slayer healing and all that.  
  
The fledgling kicks her hard, in the ribs, I can hear a few of them snap, and can see the slayer's breathing become labored and the slow tickle of blood begins to leak from her mouth. I take an involuntary step forward, a protest dying on my lips. The Fledgling turns around at the sound I made and looks at me questioning.  
  
"What you want? She's my kill!" He stands protectively over the unconscious girl. Emotions begin to war within me. By all rights he's correct, but he doesn't have to beat or torture her before he drains her.  
  
"Right you are mate. So just end it, why don't you." He looks back down at her.  
  
He puffs his chest out in conceited glee, "I thought the slayer was tough? She wasn't so tough! Just a stupid cunt like the rest of their ilk. The Mayor was right, just food."  
  
"That's right mate, now just end it will you." I feel the slayer should have an honorable death.... This sorry excuse for a vamp was anything but honorable. Still, he did defeat her, so he should be the one to drain her.  
  
"Yeah, I'll just do that...But first a cunt is a cunt." I see him pull out a length of rope and reach down to tie the slayers arm tightly behind her.  
  
"What are you doing?" I ask though I know already. Three vamps in an alley, after the battle at the high school, rope...Although I didn't see any weapons on the other two, I now really look at the slayer and I can see small cuts and busies all over her arms. So it was an ambush, and this one probably stayed out of the fight, hiding and afraid, until he was sure he could blindside her.  
  
"Bastard!"  
  
"Yeah, your point?" The fledgling answered, not realizing just how close to the edge I was. "We planed it all and now I have the slayer. I'm going to sire a slayer. Me!" He stands up in defiance; "She's going to be my slave!" The fledgling is too caught up in his little power trip to understand or feel the power I hold as a Master. All I can see is red as rage fills me up and I react-I don't know where the piece of wood came from-all I know is the satisfying sound of it driving into the bastard's heart. The look of utter surprise on his face as it dissolves into dust is refreshing.   
  
I so enjoy killing and violence. The fact that I just killed another vamp or one of my kind means nothing to me, I just like it.   
  
I take a few unneeded steadying breaths. Then slowly look down at the helpless, unconscious, and bound slayer. "Right then, let's end this and get back to Dru." I say aloud to so I won't think about how beautiful Buffy is, even covered in blood and busies. I think about Dru and slowly pull my determination to have her back around me like a cape-I must end the Slayer's life, now.  
  
I kneel by her side, she's lying on her stomach, so I gently roll her over and lift her up. Her entire right side of her face is swollen and cut from the board so I turn her head to the left. I want to see her beauty as I drain her....  
  
I sink my fangs in her neck and take the swallow of her rich warm blood and nearly pass-out from pleasure.   
  
I take another, smaller sip, and it's no less wonderful. But, then I feel the small body take a shuttering gasp and I have a moment of clarity-If I drain this creature she will be dead and I will never again be able to fight her, or think about her-the light will be extinguished. She will be gone forever.  
  
I pull my fangs out of her neck. I realized for the first time, I was in love with the Slayer.  
  
I pick-up the limp and fragile body and carry her to the entrance of the alley-left is the hospital it's only a few a blocks away. Right is too my car; I could be at my "safe" house just on the otherside of LA by dawn.  
  
****  



	2. Buffy

Buffy woke, if you could call it that, with pain every where. She tried to open her eyes but was immediately blinded by the light. She didn't know where the light was coming from or what had caused it, all she knew was that it was like a knife driving through her eyes into the back of her head.  
  
"Easy love, lie still. " she heard the voice and it sounded familiar and yet she couldn't place it. Buffy wanted to think but the room took that exact moment to start shaking up and down causing her stomach to protest....  
  
As she started to retch, cool hands lifted and turned her so that her head was somehow lower than her body-helping her, keeping her from choking. Finally, the worse of the spasms let up and the hands then turned her so that she was lying on her back. She felt a soft cold cloth cover her eyes.  
  
A few seconds later there was a sting in her leg and then a fuzzy warmth spread through out her body washing the pain away.  
***  
  
  
The hands were washing her face-again she tried to open her eyes and again the pain from the light made her close them-she felt dizzy, like she was on a ship at sea. Her stomach protested, but she didn't start retching. The cloth that was washing her face was placed over her eyes keeping them closed, also keeping the light out.  
  
"Easy, love, you've got another few minutes before your next injection. Just lie still and maybe the pain won't be as bad." The voice; the voice that she should recognized told her. Only she didn't have a clue what it said or meant.... What injection? Where was she? She took a deep breath to try and ask a question and even more intense pain came rushing up at her, grabbing her in its teeth ripping her to shreds. She couldn't breath it hurt so much....  
  
"Alright then, we'll risk addiction...." The sting in her leg and the warm fuzziness spread through her.  
****  
  
  
She was on fire! She had to be there was no other explanation. Fire was dancing over her chest, down her arms. Oh god she hurt!  
  
"Buffy you need to lie still, girl, listen-you have a fever-you slayers' always get fevers when you have to heal this much damage. It means you are getting better." The voice was talking to her reassuring her even as those cold gentle hands were working their magic on her burning flesh.  
  
She tried to talk to the voice but their wasn't enough moisture in her mouth. The hands seemed to understand this and an ice chip touched her lips. She greedily sucked on it, trying to draw it all into her perched mouth.  
  
"Easy girl, go slow or you're retch all over yourself again." The voice admonished her and she discovered that she didn't want to displease it so she stopped and just let the ice melt and run down the back of her throat. Surprisingly, just letting the moisture drip slowly eased her thirst and it didn't seem to reek havoc with her stomach.  
  
"Good girl, it's time for your injection, I'm proud of you, you went past the time." The voice was pleased with her, she still didn't understand what it meant, all she cared about was it was pleased.  
  
She felt the, by now, familiar sting in her leg and then a pleasant warmth washed all the fire away.  
****  
  
Buffy woke to darkness. The pain was still there but it was less than before, she could handle it. She thought her vision was blurred but she couldn't really tell because it was so dark. She felt hot and weak, lethargic, drugged.   
  
The word drugged seemed to echo through her mind as she remembered the pain and then the sweet relief of something washing it away.  
  
So she had been drugged? Yes, she had been drugged to ease her suffering.   
  
The next thing she could remember was the kind voice and gentle hands trying to reassure her. She tried to fight through the haze of her injuries, as the pain intensified and her head started to pound with the beat of her heart.  
  
The voice, it had been a man's voice. Yes, that sounded correct, too. A man's voice with a British accent... Not Giles.  
  
Then who?  
  
Buffy could smell the smoke of cigarette and a memory stirred.  
  
Spike!  
  
She sat straight up and nearly threw up as extreme dizziness toppled her over onto her side. Redness filled her vision, as her head seemed to explode....  
  
***  
  
  
Buffy thought she must have blacked out again because when she opened her eyes this time there was a cool damp cloth covering them.   
  
"There she is, I was wondering when you would wake again." The cocky British accent said at her side.  
  
When she moved her arm she found she was now tied down. She gave her bonds a weak, experimental tug to see how strong they were, only to exhaust herself with the slight effort. The slayer in her realizing that she was wounded and helpless before her archenemy tried to muster the fight or flight panic it would take for her to break free. Only there seemed to be a short in the connection.  
  
All she felt was a peaceful calm... Even the pain was masked and seemed far, far away.   
  
"Aren't drugs a wonderful invention?" Spike asked. "Now I'm going to remove the cloth covering your eyes, if you still have pain just say so and I'll put it back."  
  
She heard the creak of a chair and the cloth was lifted away.   
  
Buffy blinked several times trying to clear the blurring from her vision and couldn't. All she could see were shapes; she supposed the big one standing over her was Spike.  
  
"How?" She asked. Not knowing exactly what she wanted to know-she still felt so disconnected from herself. She knew she should be frightened to be at this vamps mercy, but yet she just wasn't.  
  
"How what, Slayer?" The blob that was Spike questioned as he sat down on what appeared to be her bed. "Why are you here? Why are you alive? How did you become to be in my power?"  
  
Buffy licked dry lips, the disconnectedness was slowly fading and the pain was returning.   
  
"Do you remember the alley or the fight with the mayor?" Spike posed to her, suddenly intent. All the cockiness and threat leaving his voice.  
  
Buffy tried to think past the pounding in her head and couldn't. Giving up, "no." She croaked out.  
  
Spike sighed, then reached for something on a table next to her bed. He placed an ice chip in her mouth.  
  
"Great." He said in an exasperated tone. He put the cup of ice back on the table and picked up another object. "Look, I don't want to keep you tied down. When you are well, I will release you. You have my word." He explained earnestly.  
  
" I don't understand." And Buffy didn't.  
  
"I know, I know!" he shouted, "neither do I. By all right I should have killed you three days ago. Not have taken care of you!" He stood up abruptly and paced around the room. "Look, just bloody give me your word you won't try to jump out of bed until you're healed and I'll untie you."  
  
She shook her head in confusion causing the flaring pain to intensify. "What are you playing Spike?" She was proud of herself that she was actually able to form a coherent thought.  
  
"Nothing Slayer. Just promise me you won't try to escape until you are completely healed and I'll untie you." He said simply, then added softy, "I don't want you to die."  
  
Confusion and pain were warring equally in her.  
  
"Right, then. Nighty, night." Spike said impatiently and injected her with something. Almost immediately she start to feel sleepy. The pain receding along with her focus on reality. "What was that?" She slurred.  
  
"A nice little cocktail I got from a witch friend.... It's human drugs enspelled so they work on you." He told her as her awareness faded.  
  
  



	3. Spike

  
Part 3 Spike  
  
I sit here watching the slayer sleep and wonder just exactly what I'm doing.   
  
She's sick, injured, and thanks to Kathy of Wolfman and Hart she's drugged to the gills.   
  
Helpless.  
  
Yet all I can think about is how much I loathe using that high priced rip joint, Wolfman and Hart. But, I saw no other option. They could either give me or knew of someone who could get me everything I needed-from the enspelled drugs for the slayer, to human blood for me-I had to use the over priced bastards. They asked no questions. They never ask any questions, they just supply what I need.  
  
They nearly cleaned out my American bank account but, as I see the slayer getting better, I think it was worth it. And I still have my Swiss, German, and UK accounts that total a great deal more than the American one. I'm sure if I get too low on funds the good OLE W and H wouldn't mind pulling a few strings for a price.  
  
Bloody bastards taking advantage of the undead! We ought to have some bloody bleeding civil rights.  
  
Buffy turns restlessly in her drugged sleep and my attention is drawn back to her. I vaguely notice that it's night, which means she's been out of it for nearly four days. I never expected it to take her four days to heal from the concussion and broken ribs that the fledgling gave her. I knew she was exhausted before the attack but I didn't realize that she was still recovering from other injures too.  
  
I detest tying her down. I never got into the games that Dru and Angelus liked to play and having the slayer tied to the bed brings back too many unwanted memories.   
  
Just what the Hell am I thinking?  
  
"Bloody Hell!" I nearly shout and I jump to my feet to start pacing the room.  
  
I have the slayer at my mercy, The Slayer, At. My. Mercy! And all I can think about is getting her better so I can see the light awake in her bright green eyes.  
  
"Spike?" She mumbles in her sleep and I turn back towards her afraid that my outburst woke her up. This is the longest and quietest she's been asleep since her attack. She mumbles again and I can see the fading bruises on her face under the wet hair. I am amazed at how many different shades her hair is: when it's wet, like it is now from her fevered sweat-it's a dark gold. Dry, her hair is the color of honey, in the sunlight it's a bright yellow that forms a halo around her head.  
  
Oh, and how I long to watch her eyes change color.   
  
The slayer pulls tightly on her bonds and I can tell that she's waking up. I prepare another injection of the cocktail W and H's doctor fixed up for me to give her. It's a combination of two different drugs and the doctor said it would keep her out of pain without the magic for several hours-with the magic it would work on her like she was a normal human-not the slayer.  
  
I always keep it handy and ready to go since the first time she woke in such agony. As the doctor said it's a cocktail of two different drugs: one drug is supposed to keep her calm and disassociated, the other is strictly a strong narcotic for the pain.  
  
Angelus would have loved the cocktail-it keeps the patient confused, compliant, nearly child like. I could tell that the first few times the slayer woke she had no idea where she was or who taking care of her. All she wanted to do was please me.  
  
I let out a heavy sigh as she stirs. Even though the only light in the room is from one low candle I put the wash cloth I'd soaked in ice water over her eyes. Concussions are bitch to suffer through as a human. I remember being thrown from a horse as a child, hitting my head-I was sick for a week. It felt like every little shaft of light pierced my brain like a knife.  
  
I watch her as she struggles weakly with the bonds tying her wrists to the bed. After nearly four days I can tell when she's awake enough to talk, to comprehend what's going around her, and when she's just semi-conscious. Or when the slayer is in control of her actions.  
  
The Slayer: for some reason I thought of Buffy as just the slayer, never as a separate person. After watching over her, listening to her delirious rants, I'm beginning to be able to tell the difference. I can tell when one or the other is in charge.  
  
The slayer always wakes first; her instincts screaming at her to try to escape the hurt or to attack me. Or maybe it's both? Buffy follows and is the confused child that has no idea of why she hurts; she just wants it to go away.  
  
It's almost like two beings sharing one body.  
  
The slayer exhausts herself trying to break the bonds and I can tell it will just be a few more moments before the Buffy part of the personality appears. It's these few moments that I cherish-when both the slayer and Buffy merge-the control the girl has over the beast not quite complete.  
  
Then intellect drives the color of her eyes, even delirious from fever, drugs designed to create compliance, and pain the girl tries to think everything through.  
  
Total control.  
  
I wonder if she fights so hard for it because she knows just how dangerous she could be without it-without control?  
  
"Spike." The girl croaks outs out, the venom clearly sounding in her weak whispered voice. She's looking at me, having shaken off the wash cloth. Her eyes are so dilated from the drugs that they appear black.  
  
"Slayer." I answer, slowly sitting, waiting for her head to clear a little more before I pose my question. I see her struggle to remember the past few day in the emotions that fly across her face.  
  
She lightly tugs on the ropes that tie her to the bed. I'm left sitting here wondering what she remembers.  
  
"How did I get here?" She whispers to me, refusing to look me in the eyes.  
  
'A fledging clubbed you in an alley...." I start.  
  
"So you couldn't resist having a little fun by capturing me? What sick game are you playing at Spike?" I feel the anger rising up in her, she's using it for two reasons, one it will chase away the last of the fogginess the drugs caused and two it keeps her from being afraid.  
  
"No games love," I try to answer truthfully.  
  
She snorts, "yeah right." She sarcastically tugs again on the ropes. Buffy turns her head to stare at me. I watch as her eyes begin to clear and turn that beautiful bright green I love so much.  
  
It's like she has green fire burning in the depths of her soul.  
  
"So you just decide to 'rescue' me from a fledgling, take me to your layer and fill me up with drug for I don't know how long..." She pauses to breathe, "to do what, Spike? Two archenemies," she pauses again, this time I can tell that she's running out of steam. Her injuries overwhelming her anger, "what do you want Spike?" She finally asks simply.  
  
"I...I," I realize the truth won't work. I quickly stumble mentally around for a lie.  
  
"Something happen to Dru." Buffy quietly states. It's my turn to break the eye contact, according to Angelus the Slayer possesses an insight that would burn lesser fools. I don't want her to see the truth of her words because it would be a lie.  
  
"Yeah, whatever..." the slayer sighs. I look at her as she winces. The pain returning full force. The red flush that covered her neck and face from her anger fading to a sickly white. I realize that I could use this excuse to hide from her, inject her full of drugs giving me the time to think up a reasonable lie since I now know the truth would be rejected.  
  
I get an idea. I feel like one of those cartoon characters that have a light bulb go on over their head when they figure out an answer to a hard question.  
  
I stand and assume my most arrogant pose, "yeah slayer something happened to Dru and I need your help." Angelus also told me that the Slayer could never resist someone asking her for help-I hope he was right.  
  
She stares through me, trying to read me to find out if what I just said was true. I confidently pull out my fags and light up.  
  
"Okay, what's the deal?" That's Buffy, not the slayer talking-intellect, not instinct.  
  
I turn my back on her and walk to the other side of the room-I'm trying to play the game of the big bad she expects. Plus, the room's exhaust vent will pull the smoke out so she doesn't get sick again.  
  
Bloody hell I'm worse than the poofter!  
  
"I let you live." I say in my most menacing tone.  
  
She barks a laugh and then regrets it when her head hurts. I can tell I don't have much time before the pain overwhelms her and I have to give her more of the cocktail.  
  
"There is an entire nest of demons, I can't take them on my own!" I plead, playing the part I did when we got together to defeat Angelus. "I bloody well saved your life!" I shout at her.  
  
I immediately regret it when she winces; she's still noise sensitive from her concussion. I put my fag out, walk back over to where I placed the injection.  
  
"You think it over slayer." I tell her as I walk over to her bed. She tries to hold my gaze but her eyes are going in and out of focus as the pain grows.  
  
"I give you my word though, that no harm will come to you in my home." I give her the medication and then sit down to watch as the chemical relief flows through her. Relaxing her face first and then all the other muscles in her body.  
  
"You have a deal, Spike...." She mumbles the words so faintly it takes my mind a moment to register them.  
  
I nearly shout with joy, instead I calmly untie the unconscious slayer.  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4 Buffy

Part Four Buffy  
  
I wake without the cloud of fogginess from either the pain or the drugs I'd gotten used too. I test the bonds that held my arms tied to the bed and find that they are gone. So Spike was honoring his word.  
  
I open my eyes expecting agony but it seems my slayer healing has finally kicked into over drive.  
  
I was expecting Spike to be close by and I try to push down the disappointment that I feel to find out he's not in the room with me. I am the slayer he is an evil vampire that has tried to kill my friends and I so many times I lost count! Why am I feeling disappointment that he's not here when I finally wake up clear-headed? What is the matter with me?  
  
  
It must be some kind of spell. Only that answer doesn't sound right to me. He worked awfully hard to keep me alive and out of pain so I would help him with Dru. All he would have had to do was just cast a spell on me and I would have been his willing slave. Or had taken advantage of me while I was under the influence of the drugs. No, whatever trouble it is that Dru's in Spike needs a fully functioning Slayer to get her out of it.  
  
I sit-up slowly waiting for the dizziness to pass. When it does I'm able to look around the room I'm in and I realize that it's a bedroom of a house. Off to the right is an open door that from here looks like a bathroom and to the left is a closed door that should be the way out.  
  
The bed I'm in can only be described as modest in its coverings.... Actually, judging from the bedroom the entire house is most likely middle class. Somehow that didn't fit the image I had of Spike-I had expected either a rundown factory or a mansion-not middle class.  
  
I sigh and pull the blankets and sheet down and put my legs over the side of the bed. I want to test my theory that the adjoining is a bathroom with hopefully a shower in it. But, I'm shocked at how weak I am. Just the little movement has caused another rush of dizziness that I have to wait out before moving.  
  
I stand and start my journey to the bathroom only to be sidetracked by a wonderful smell emanating from the desk with the candle on it. There is one of those electric do dads' cups that keeps the contents warm along with a glass full of melting ice. A note is sitting by the meal but my eyes are still having a hard time focusing so I can't read it. Gods I must have been whacked on the head harder than I thought if my eye sight still isn't back to normal! That worries me.  
  
But there is nothing I can do about it so I open the top cup and find chicken both. Once again it was thoughtful of Spike to fix me something I can eat without getting sick again.  
  
After showering I test the outer door to see if it's locked. When it isn't I just peer out into the dim hallway for a moment. My activities have exhausted me and I need to eat some of the broth or I'll never get my strength back.  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5 Spike

Part Five-Spike  
  
The dark crowed bar is screaming tonight with Happy Meals on legs. It's been over fours days since I last had a warm meal. All that time locked up with the sick slayer, taking care of her, listening to her cries, smelling her blood from her wounds. I have control issues I know that. I smile; soon I'll have my meal.  
  
There is barely enough space to move around the bar as I order a beer. The flashing strobe casting eerie shadows on all the humans as the blaring music deafens them. I am so hungry I have to contain my demon least it comes out too early.  
  
"Hey stranger, wanna dance?" A gorgeous raven-haired seductress purrs in my ear.   
  
I turn and hold out my hand to her, then lead her to the dance floor. I love the thrill of the hunt, the spice of the blood when I take a victim in the open. We begin to dance and it's apparent from the beginning that it's more than a dance this woman wants, well it's more than a dance that I want too.  
  
I smile at her and let her move close to me and then I nuzzle her neck-she leans in closer to me-rubbing against me-teasing me. If I were a man I would be truly turned on, or truly pissed. Instead I gently lift her hair away from her neck as she lets out a sigh.... I try not to be too obvious that I'm arranging her hair to hide what I'm about to do.  
  
I pull back and smile at her again, to reassure her that I want her. And oh how I do want her! I'm about to give her the thrill of her life! The fact that it will be the last thing she ever does in her life doesn't bother me.  
  
I wait for just the right time, just the right beat of the music when it grows too loud to hear the scream.   
  
Then strike!  
  
I change so fast that she isn't even aware of it until I bite down and then I slam her mind with the full force of a master vampire's feeding thrall. The scream dies on her lips, as she's totally overwhelmed. The fact that she had a nice buzz on from some kind drug only helps me control her mind completely.  
  
I taste her orgasm right as her heart gives one more beat and then stops.   
  
I've done this so many time I instinctively keep on dancing while I move us into a dark corner where I can deposit the body. I arrange her hair so it covers the wound; they won't find her until after closing time, which by then I'll be long gone from this place and on to the next one.  
  
*****  
  
I let myself into the house sated and full just before sunrise. I still feel warm from my victims' blood. All I can think about is going to sleep. But, first I want to check on the Slayer.  
  
I silently open the door to her room and notice that she's sitting at the table in the corner. She must have found the chicken broth and ice water I had left her before I went out for the night.  
  
After a night hunting I'm in tune with mortals breathing and heart beats so I can tell the slayer has gone to sleep sitting up. I also notice that she's taken a shower, dressing in my tee shirt and boxers I left out for her.  
  
I sigh at her incredible beauty. Her hair clean and pulled back away from her face tied tightly in what the girls refer as a ponytail. I approach her with the intention of carrying her to bed when her arm shoots out in a backhanded uppercut striking me squarely on the chin.  
  
If she had been anywhere near full strength I'd be on the floor with a fractured jaw, instead I am more surprised than hurt as I back up a few feet. I watch her follow the blow flowing into a fighting stance and as I glance into her eyes I see only the slayer staring back at me.  
  
"Hey easy there slayer!" I try to calm her. Knowing I was a bloody fool for walking up to a sleeping slayer. After having her helpless and out of it for so long I'd let down my guard.  
  
The slayer stands there for a moment then she reaches out for the chair but misses and does a slow motion slide to the floor. She's not unconscious; she just stood too fast for her healing body to compensate.  
  
"Spike?" She questions blinking her vision clear.  
  
"Yes, love." I answer kneeling down to lift her into my arms. 'Let's get you back to bed." I say as I slip my arms under her and stand.  
  
It's still the slayer looking at me as I turn to walk over to her bed. But, then the shade of her eyes change color and I feel the blood attraction two predators have for each other course through me.  
  
She's watching my face like I'm either her prey or her lover and something reaches out to me. I feel her cold tiny hand begin to stoke my face and I'm left speechless, bare before the Slayer's power.  
  
Then I'm struck as her beautiful eyes change again-to Buffy.  
  
To horror.  
  
To agony.  
  
She places both her cold hands on my chest and pushes with all her strength coming out of my arms and landing on the bed. She slowly crawls backwards until she's pushed as far away from me as she can get.  
  
"You've been hunting!" she cries. Buffy cries, the woman, the intellect that I thought I could get to love me. "You've killed how many people tonight?" Buffy screams.  
  
I'm confused, how did she know? Then I realize her hands were cold to my warm body, I'm warm from stolen blood.   
  
"It's what I do. Human's are my natural prey." I try to explain to her.  
  
"No, you're a murderer! You play games with me, when in fact you keep me here so I can't stake you!" Angry tears begin to flow down her face. Well, I'm angry too! It's not fair, my bleedin life is just not fair!  
  
"You kill too!" I shout back, wanting to make her understand that we aren't so different. "Your prey is my kind!" I point to myself. "You have super speed, strength and healing powers-you can sense my kind before we can even see you!" I walk up to the bed and grab her by the shoulders; I want her to feel my pain.  
  
"You are every bit of a murderer as I am!" I scream in her face.  
  
She tries to break the grip I have on her shoulders but is too weak. I know she can feel me through that blasted slayer sense she has so I pour all my hope that she will love me into her.  
  
In return I watch as revulsion fills her eyes-turning them a sick brown.  
  
As I watch the death of my dreams, I realize that while there is a strong attraction between the slayer and I-Buffy will never allow me to love her. And in that instant I understand why Angelus wanted so badly to break this girl!  
  
"Let. Go. Of. Me." She stops her futile struggles and calmly tells me as my focus shifts to her neck. Her blood racing through her veins just under the skin, her body growing hot.  
  
"No." I answer simply. I can bite her and exchange blood without killing her I think frantically. She would have to obey my very wish and command. She would want to obey me, her free will stripped away by vampire magic. Buffy would beg me for my touch, yes, I think, a willing slave.   
  
She would have no choice.  
  
I push her head roughly to the side, slip into game face and bite down all before she can react. The sweet rich nectar glides over my tongue and I force her mind open with my power paralyzing her so she can't resist.   
  
After just a few swallows she's already just semi-conscious her mind an open book before my power. Dru could put these suggestions into fully conscious humans while I always had to use blood or drugs-when I wasn't revolted by the very idea of having a willing....  
  
Dog.  
  
I pull back mentally and let her drop to the bed. She falls limply over on her side. She stares blankly out of unseeing eyes, all fire extinguished from her gaze.  
  
I'm filled with sickness and turn around to vomit all of her stolen spirit on the floor.  
  
'What have I done, what have I done...." Repeats over and over in my mind.  
  
The afternoon sun somehow shines into the room through a crack in the curtains causing me to come back to myself.  
  
I wished it hadn't.  
  
With dread I sit-up and look at Buffy.  
  
She hasn't moved since this morning. I look closer and notice the blank stare is gone, replaced by closed eyes. I listen to her breathing and it sounds natural, like she's just asleep.  
  
A slight glimmer of hope fills me as I remember that I didn't finish the ritual. Then I realize that Dru never needed to perform a ritual, just the power of her mind was enough.  
  
Still, if anyone can resist vampire magic it's a vampire slayer. Besides didn't Angel just bite her less than a week ago and there were no lasting affects.   
  
Whether she recovers or not one thing is certain I can't be around her. I'll kill her one way or the other-either physically or spiritually.  
  
I wrap her in a blanket and carry her to the car. I can be in Sunnydale before mid-night. I'll leave her with her mum. It's the only way.  
  
Dru was right-I have no choice--I do love her.  
  
So I must leave her.  
  
The End  
  
  
  



End file.
